Masquerade
by Regina lacrimarum
Summary: Hermione decides to hold a ball. Who will come, and why? Features appearances by Malfoy the Marvelous, Harry the Hopeless, and Ron the Awkward. Also a tall, dark, and handsome young man.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing here at least.

A/N: This was written for La Belle Chere's Halloween Masquerade challenge.

I guess this is AU… The seventh book never took place, and I suppose the sixth didn't either. I have taken the liberty of introducing Charity Burbage, whom we saw only briefly before her murder. I have a happier life in store for her.

Chapter 1: Prelude to an Afternoon in Costume

_HALLOWEEN MASQUERADE BALL_

_October 31, 20:00-0:00_

_For all Hogwarts students currently in or above their fourth year._

_All attending parties shall be costumed as a figure from Muggle culture._

_It is forbidden for an attending party to be dressed as a person deemed highly offensive._

_For a list of banned identities, see Professor McGonagall or Hermione Granger._

_Attendees are urged to disguise themselves well. Prizes will be given out for the best male, female, and couple costumes._

_For those in search of costume ideas, several volumes of Muggle fairy tales, history books, and fashion texts have been set out in the library._

_The giving out of names at the ball is forbidden, save those names suggested by the costume donned._

_Attendance is mandatory for all prefects._

_Prof. A. Dumbledore, Headmaster_

_Prof. M. McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

Harry Potter turned away from the message board and raised his eyebrows at his best friend.

"I thought it might be—well, a way to encourage awareness of Muggle culture…Professor Burbage thought it was a wonderful idea!"

"Oi, Hermione!"

The addressee turned toward the addresser with a sigh of resignation. "Yes, Ron?"

Waving a brightly-coloured paper before his girlfriend's face, Ron demanded, "Is this you?"

Hermione could feel a headache coming on. "Yes, Ron."

"How'd you expect the purebloods to take this?"

"Very poorly, I imagine, but they don't have to come," Hermione said defensively.

"The prefects do," Harry pointed out. Hermione shot him a you're-not-helping glare.

"Malfoy's lot won't be happy. They're bound to give you trouble about it."

"I can handle it, thank you, Ron." But Hermione didn't look nearly as confident as she sounded, and Harry suspected that she had dreamt up the idea in Muggle Studies class, where there were no Slytherins to snap her back to reality.

"Well, then, what about people like Neville, who'll try, but'll bugger it up somehow?"

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly, and Harry saw in her eyes what he and Ron privately called the "Spew spark", because Hermione got it whenever she was throwing herself wholeheartedly into yet another cause. "I'll help them."

"I'll bet you will." Ron looked at his hand, still clutching the slightly crumpled flyer. "Are we… Will we be going as a couple, then?"

"I—" Hermione looked flustered. "I honestly haven't thought about it."

Harry stared at the ground, conscious of not being the only one to do so. Wonderful as it was that his friends had _finally_ admitted their feelings for each other, he did wish they weren't so painfully awkward about it. He cast another look at the message board and cleared his throat. "I'm going to find Ginny. I need to ask her about Quidditch."

"See'ya, mate," Ron muttered.

"I think she was down by the lake," Hermione said in a tiny voice.

"Right. See you at dinner." And Harry Potter, the boy who had cut down Voldemort, beat a fast retreat.

Harry supposed he had to go find Ginny now. She was, indeed by the lake, sitting under a tree listening to one of Luna's soft-voiced speeches championing the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. "Oh, hello, Harry." The Ravenclaw smiled dreamily at him, and Ginny dimpled in greeting.

"Good to see you, Luna. Um, can I talk to you for a second, Ginny?"

The redhead looked mildly surprised. "Yeah, sure." She got up and stood facing him, tucking a strand of copper hair behind a delicate ear.

Luna rose as well. "Goodbye, Harry. Goodbye, Ginny."

"Bye, Luna," the pair said in unison, and stopped. Ginny grinned a little, and Luna, turning toward the castle, looked as amused as ever she did.

When she had gone, Harry stood for a moment, just looking at Ginny. Her copper hair, down and falling loose about her face, caught the light from the setting sun, and she was hugging her crimson jumper about her body against the chill.

"So, you wanted to talk?"

"Um. Yeah." Harry really didn't want to have this conversation, but if they didn't do it now, they would have to have it later in front of people. Why did a ball, of all things, have to be sort of a statement about a relationship? It wasn't, after all, indicative of anything really. So why did he feel like it mattered?

"You saw about the ball?"

"It had Hermione written all over it."

"She's been trying to get this sort of thing for a while. So, anyway, Hermione and Ron were talking about it, and I was wondering arewegoingtogether?"

"Sorry, what?"

Harry was back in fourth year, asking another girl to another ball. He wished the giant squid would wrap a tentacle around him and drag him into the lake.

"Are. We. Going to the ball. Together?"

Ginny gave him a look that made him feel about three inches tall. "Of course. At least, as far as I know."

"Right then."

She waited for a moment. "That's it?"

"It sounded a lot more important in my head."

"I'm sure." But she didn't seem to mind that he had driven Luna away, and the two stayed out by the lake until dinnertime, discussing Quidditch, the ball, and the meaning of life.

*****

He had followed her from the Great Hall, but she had a head start, and he wouldn't dare tackle her when a teacher might be watching.

"Granger! We need to talk!"

_Darn it._ She was so close to the portrait hole. _So close, and yet, so far away._ "What is it, Malfoy?"

He waved a flyer under her nose in a manner curiously similar to Ron's earlier that day. "Didn't you think you should mention this to the Head Boy?"

She did feel a little bit guilty about that. She really _ought_ to have told him, but he would just have shouted it down, and she couldn't have that.

"It has noth—little to do with you. It's my project for Muggle Studies."

"Merlin! Couldn't you have chosen a way to prove that you're still the resident Mudblood freak _without_ dragging respectable students into it?"

"I could, but this gets me extra credit."

Malfoy snorted. "I've noticed that you need it. Honestly! And now you'll expect me to help you with this, this, farce."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I had hoped you might like the idea of more power in those cold, pasty, little hands."

"I would, but this is _not_ power. It is a travesty."

She was going to need a potion for the headache. "Show up to planning meetings and file your nails. Make an appearance at the actual event. There your involvement ends. Now get out of here, before Harry and Ron come along and hex you into next week."

He scoffed. "As if they could." Hermione noticed, however, that the Slytherin didn't hang around longer than it took to say, "I'll come to the ball, but the meetings are all yours."

*****

Malfoy was almost back to the Slytherin common room when a figure stepped from the shadows. "Draco."

*****

"No."

Malfoy glared at him. "We—" he indicated himself, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy "—all have to go. So. You're going."

Blaise Zabini shook his head and shuffled the cards in his hand. "Your logic is faulty."

"You owe me, Zabini."

"I owe you a monetary debt—a very small one, I might add—and I will settle it with money, not by going to some mass torture."

Pansy pouted. "_Bla_-ise."

"Do you not understand the meaning of the word 'no'?"

"Do you not understand the meaning of the word 'solidarity'?"

Blaise dealt each person around the table three cards. If he had been inclined to frown, he would have done so now. Malfoy had a point.

Sickels clinked as Pansy bet.

They played the round in silence. When it was over, Blaise was thirteen sickles richer, and the deal passed.

"If you go, I'll talk to my father." Blaise's gaze shot up from his hand to meet Malfoy's grey eyes. Zabini's stare had made better wizards than Malfoy look away, but the blond didn't flinch.

"It means that much to you?"

"And more."

Pansy and the goons, sitting forlornly, trying to make sense of the conversation between their leaders, were fully aware that they were missing something, but they didn't know what.

Zabini carefully placed his cards faced down on the table. "Walk with me, Malfoy." Draco threw his cards down and followed him out of the room.

Neither boy spoke until they were outside. It was dark, and curfew was in an hour, but they were more secure here than anywhere inside the castle. Finally, Zabini broke the silence. "Explain."

"I'd already made the decision when this came up. I figured it was a good way to tell you and maybe get something out of it."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be." Malfoy's voice was shaky but firm.

"I'll tell my man."

"Blaise…"

"Draco?"

"Are _you_ sure you want me there? I'll be a liability."

Zabini shrugged, though his companion couldn't see it. "That's a risk I'm prepared to take."

"Your neck."

"That it is. But if I'm going to put my valuable neck on the line, you need to tell me why it's so important to you that I go to the ball."

Draco didn't answer for a minute. When he did, he spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "I have a feeling I'm going to need all the help I can get that night. Crabbe and Goyle are too thick to be of any use, and Pansy is…Pansy."

"Merlin, what a brilliant observation." There was no exclamation point. Zabinis were above such things, even in sarcasm. He didn't press for more information.

The pair looped around a tree and headed back to the castle, lit up with the fires of students burning midnight oil over chessboards and butterbeer.

*****

Hermione couldn't understand why Lavender was having such trouble choosing between Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. _She'll manage to look like a tart in either one_. Hermione herself already had a costume picked out, had had one in mind since the idea for a masquerade first came into her mind.

Harry and Ginny had quickly decided on Don Drysdale and Ann Meyers. They had asked Hermione for a sports couple, and that was the only one that came to mind, since she had a cousin in America who followed basketball religiously, but watched no sports herself. It wasn't flashy, and it wasn't going to win them the best dressed award, but it suited them.

They had kept it to themselves, of course, as per the rules of the ball, which stated that you were not allowed to publish your identity, even after the ball was over. Everyone attending, of course, had told _somebody_, and Hermione was the most common, because she was a Muggleborn, and besides, she was planning the whole thing.

Ron, curiously enough, hadn't come to Hermione for advice. They had spent an awkward half an hour poring over books, trying to find a couple who would fit both, but it hadn't come off, and they had finally decided to go singly and meet up during the ball.

*****

Zabini sighed and shut _Fairy Tales for the Young Mind_. He had been unable to find a single magical protagonist who was not Prince Charming. _Not a role I'm destined to play, I think._

Time to look in a history text. He rose slowly and went off to find that old hag of a librarian.

*****

Pansy sucked in her gut, and her family's seamstress tied the corset in back. Facing the mirror, the pug-faced girl beamed. "It's perfect." Indeed, it truly was.

A/N: This chapter was really just setup, but it was all necessary, I swear.


End file.
